


Lightning Strike

by the_tired_fangirl



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, L'Manberg War of Independence on Dream Team SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Not Beta Read, They/Them Pronouns for Eret (Video Blogging RPF), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, TommyInnit is Not Okay (Video Blogging RPF), Video Game Mechanics, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:48:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_tired_fangirl/pseuds/the_tired_fangirl
Summary: When Tommy is struck by lightning, he's sent back to the past during the War for Indpendence. Will he be able to change things for the better?
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Eret & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 142
Kudos: 1431





	1. Chapter 1

Tommy sits atop the manmade tower, staring out at the ruins of L’manberg. Destruction is littered around him, the craters from the withers still smoking, the sky tainted in a hazy gray. Tommy doesn’t know what to think. This was his home, this was his country, and Dream and Techno had blown it up like it didn’t even matter. Like it didn’t matter to him, to Tubbo, to so many other people. 

He continues staring at the landscape around him, fingers curling around the edge of the block beneath him. He can see Tubbo and Ghostbur on the path above him, picking their way through the ruins. Tommy knows that he should be helping them, trying to salvage whatever he can, but he can’t seem to move himself away from the tower. 

It starts raining, the water coming down in heavy torrents. The cold droplets help soothe the many bruises littering Tommy’s body, and he turns his head up to embrace the rain. The cold water is reminiscent of his many days in exile, when he would wade out through the ocean water and spend hours floating on his back, passing the time by letting the waves wash over him. 

Tommy’s so focused on the rain that he doesn’t hear the shouts around him when a lightning bolt streaks down from the sky, landing directly on his tower. Every part of his body feels like it’s on fire, and his vision slowly grows dark. 

His body hurts, his muscles ache and little bits of shrapnel sting as they embed themselves deeper in his skin. The taste of gunpowder is on the tip of his tongue, and when he opens his eyes the water makes them sting. Once his vision clears, he can see that he is treading water and staring up at the sky. 

Did he fall off his tower? He vaguely remembers something like a lightning bolt. Bursts of pain echo through his head as he forces himself to turn it forward, surveying his surroundings. 

His heart stops when he sees what’s standing in front of him.

Tall, black and yellow walls reaching up to the clouds, and Dream standing in the gate, his soldiers standing behind him, their shields raised. In front of them is a crater. No, not a crater. He knows what a crater is after seeing L’manberg get destroyed. This is nothing compared to that. 

Dream turns his head, staring at Tommy. The impassive look on his mask strikes a chord of fear in Tommy, and he quickly turns around, forcing his arms to pull his body forward through the water. 

The motions are so similar to him, so simple after days perfecting them in exile. Swimming through the choppy waves until his fingers were all wrinkled and the cold water and seeped through his clothes and into his bones. His muscles ache as he sluggishly pulls himself through the water, glancing up as he does so.

A few yards away is the Camarvan.

The van?

That, that can’t be right, the van was destroyed by the withers.

Tommy falters, arms stilling and sinking into the water. 

Quickly, he forces himself to move again, reaching the Camarvan within a few minutes. The half of it closest to the front wall is destroyed, providing a ledge for Tommy to grab. His arms burn as he pulls himself up and the metal underneath his hand cuts his palm. 

Tommy collapses against the wall, breathing heavily and trying to figure out what happened.

One second he was standing on a tower, looking out over the destruction of L’manberg, the next he was in a lake, swimming for his life. And for some reason he’s back in L’manberg, back when the walls were still in place and before the drug van was destroyed. 

Looking down, he can see he’s wearing the uniform still.

He must be going crazy. That’s the only explanation for it. He’s going as crazy as Alivebur was, if he’s hallucinating the War for Independence. He laughs at how insane this whole thing is, but stops when the laughing causes a pain in his chest, most likely bruises from the explosion.

The explosion during Doomsday, or the explosion during the first war, he doesn’t know. 

The van rattles as another person pulls themself up into it. 

“When did you learn how to swim so fast?”

It’s Wilbur, his hair wet from the water and the right sleeve of his uniform torn. He glances over at Tommy, his joking smile turning to one of concern when he sees him.

“Holy shit, Tommy, are you okay?”

Tommy laughs, feeling the rattling pain in his chest again. “Hey, big man.” 

He’s crazy. He’s definitely crazy, if Wilbur is here, and he’s alive again. His hands are warm when he reaches for Tommy, inspecting his injuries with a steady hand. There’s a quick pulse thumping under his skin when Tommy grabs his forearm to steady himself. 

Holy shit. He’s actually alive, actually here. Tommy’s gotten so used to Ghostbur, and before that to the insane man Wilbur became during Pogtopia, that he had almost forgotten what being with his brother was like.

He doesn’t think he can hallucinate this. Everything feels too real, too solid. 

Is he in the past?

Wilbur pulls Tommy up to his feet, the two of them stumbling due to the injuries they’d gained during the explosion. Wilbur leads them down under the van, through the tunnels, and they’re joined by Fundy, Eret, and Tubbo in a stone room under L’manberg. 

“Wilbur, what do we do now?” Fundy asks as he patches up Tubbo’s injuries, Tubbo wincing as the bandage is wrapped around his leg. Eret stands off to the side, leaning against the wall removed from the rest of them. Tommy still stands next to Wilbur, half his weight being supported by him. It’s almost comforting. 

He can’t remember the last time he was this close to his brother. 

Wilbur looks grim as he responds. “I don’t think there’s anything else for us to do. We’re out of options. We need to accept Dream’s conditions of surrender.” 

Tommy visibly flinches when Wilbur mentions Dream, and he pulls away when he looks down at him with concern. He can’t stand when people look at him like that, like they’re pitying him. 

Tommy accepts the bandages from Fundy, and steadies himself against the wall, picking the shrapnel out of his arms and wrapping them with practiced ease. There were so many times he had to tend to his injuries alone during exile, and it shows with the similar motions his hands make as they secure the bandages. 

“We can’t just surrender to them!” Tubbo shouts, rising to his feet.

“I think we might have to.” Wilbur runs a hand through his wet hair, sighing as he does so. 

“But, you have to have some sly last move, right?” Fundy says, looking up at his father with shock.

“There is no sly last move, Fundy.”

“Gentlemen.” Eret’s voice interrupts them all, and they fall silent as they speak. “I spent a while grinding for a secret weapon to help us win this war.” 

Tommy watches as his companion’s faces light up, and the bandage in his hands tears when his fingers clench down too hard. This was what Eret had said last time, right before they led them to the final control room and allowed them all to be killed. He can’t believe Eret would do this, would see them all hurt, scared, and desperate, and still decide to betray them. 

A familiar anger boils in his blood, and before he knows it, Tommy is storming across the room to Eret, slamming them against the wall.

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Fundy shouts. Tommy doesn’t listen to him.

“Eret, you fucking bastard! You son of a bitch! How dare you stand here as our ally, as one of us when you’ve been planning to betray us all along! How long until you tell these people, tell your friends, that your secret weapon is a final control room that will kill us all?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Stop fucking lying to me! You’ve fucked up, Eret, you’ve fucked up in the biggest way possible!”

A hand grasps Tommy’s shoulder, and he is forcibly pulled away from Eret. Looking back, Tommy sees that it’s Wilbur who is restraining him. Eret slumps against the wall. 

“Is this true?” Wilbur asks, hand loosening on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“Of course not. You know I would never betray you, would never betray the revolution.”

“They're lying! That son of a bitch is lying to you! They have a deal with Dream. They betray us and Dream gives them a kingdom, gives them a crown. You’ve always wanted to be a king, haven’t you, Eret?”

“Tommy, do you have any proof that Eret's a traitor?”

He doesn’t. How would he? Tell them he’s from the future, from a world where L’manberg blows up again, not just once but twice? Tell them that he somehow traveled back in time after being struck by lightning? Even he’s smart enough to know that would be a bad idea. 

“You do like picking fights with people, Tommy,” Tubbo says. For the first time since he’s woken up here, Tommy looks at Tubbo. He looks so much younger, so much smaller than when he was president, with the weight of L’manberg on his shoulders. His words hurt way more than any of the bruises on his body, reminding him of when he stood on a different set of walls and was exiled by his best friend. 

No one believed him then. 

No one believes him now. 

This all feels too real to be a dream, to be a hallucination. And besides, why would he be going crazy now? Why not during exile, during Pogtopia, during any of the other times his life has been put in danger? 

He remembers the moment when he stood on the tower, looking out over the crater of what was left of L’manberg. He remembers the rain, and people shouting. 

Lightning. 

He got struck by a lightning bolt, something that had never happened before on the Dream SMP.

And then he woke up in the past. The past. This is definitely the past, and Tommy knows that now. 

Staring at the incredulous faces of his friends, at Wilbur still alive, and Eret still in the L’manberg uniform, Tommy decides that he’s going to change things. 

Starting with L’manberg. 

If they won’t believe him about Eret, then he’s going to have to finish this himself. 

So Tommy turns on his heel, and starts making his way back down the tunnel towards the Camarvan. 

“Tommy, where are you going?” Wilbur shouts.

“I’m ending this.”


	2. Chapter 2

By the time Tommy reaches the van, he’s made up his mind. He’ll do anything to keep his discs, to keep Dream from having any more power over him. Tommy’s hands clench into fists. He refuses to let Dream hold the discs over his head again. Not this time. 

So he can’t trade them for L’manberg’s independence this time around. And he’s never been like Wilbur, he can’t use his words to win his fights, no matter how hard he tries. 

That leaves only one option. One that he knows will work. 

He’s going to challenge Dream to a duel again. 

And this time he’s not going to miss. 

Over the years, he’s gotten better at fighting. Being a soldier in multiple wars will do that to you. 

He’s faintly aware of Wilbur following him as he climbs out of the tunnel and back into the van. He reaches into his inventory and checks to make sure he has a bow and arrows. 

“Tommy, what are you doing?” Wilbur asks, climbing out of the tunnels behind Tommy. 

“I’m winning this war.”

Tommy lowers himself out of the Camarvan, wincing as his feet hit the ground too hard. Dream is still standing at the gate, flanked by Sapnap and George. He can’t tell what Dream is thinking, his face hidden behind the porcelain mask. 

Tommy strides towards Dream, trying to hide his fear. While he was staying with Technoblade in the Arctic, he taught him how to control his fear. How to not let it control him. He had helped him get over Dream’s manipulation left over from his exile. 

That’s why it hurt so much when he betrayed him for Dream.

He can’t think about that right now. Technically, that hasn’t even happened yet. Technoblade hasn’t been invited to the server yet. This version of Dream hasn’t manipulated him either. 

But he would. If Tommy lets the timeline continue the same. 

So he hides his fear in his chest, and stops directly in front of Dream. He has to look up to meet the emotionless eyes of his mask, and Tommy curses internally that he hasn’t had his growth spurt. He used to be almost as tall as Dream, but now he’s back in the body of a child. 

A voice in the back of his head wonders why a child is fighting in a war, but Tommy ignores it. 

“Tommy?” Dream says, the faintest amount of surprise in his voice. “Are you here to surrender?”

Tommy ignores his question. “Duel me, Dream. 1v1. If I win L’manberg is granted independence and officially secedes from the Dream SMP, if you win we surrender. Deal?” Dream seems almost taken aback, surprised by Tommy’s tone. Outwardly, his demeanor doesn’t change, but Tommy had gotten used to recognizing Dream’s body language during his weeks in exile. He was especially good at telling when he got upset, because that’s how he knew he was about to get hurt. 

“That’s an interesting deal.” Dream hums, as if considering something. “One condition. If I win I want Mellohi as well.”

Those words snap Tommy back into the present. 

He hesitates. Throughout multiple wars, throughout his home being destroyed, throughout his best friend abandoning him, the dics have been the only thing that has stayed by Tommy’s side through it all. After being betrayed so many times, the discs are the only thing that’s been a constant in his life. And because of that, they’re the only thing Dream can hold over him. He doesn’t want to lose them again, because he knows how hard it was to get them back. 

But he’s not going to miss this time. 

While he was staying in the tundra, Techno trained him for days on end, honing his combat skills until Tommy could spill blood almost as well as him. He now knows how to shoot a bow with trained precision. And he won’t miss, not when he learned from the one person who had beat Dream in the past. The one person as powerful as Dream, if not more. 

“It’s a deal.”

Tommy turns back to Wilbur. “Wilbur, I want you to count the paces.”

“Tommy, are you sure about this? Your life is worth more than L’manberg. I don’t want you to die for this.”

“I’m sure.”

Wilbur nods, his face solemn. Tommy stills. Wilbur would do anything for his country, even if it meant letting his younger brother face a duel to his death. He remembers how pained Wilbur was when he found L’manberg, his symphony, was destroyed. 

Maybe if Tommy can win L’manberg this time around, if he can keep the election from happening, maybe Wilbur doesn’t have to die again.

There’s so much he needs to do.

Wilbur leads them down the Prime Path, to the same bridge the duel was fought on the first time. During their conversation, Tubbo, Fundy, and Eret had followed Wilbur out of the tunnels and now stand off to the side, watching Tommy and Dream walk to the center of the bridge. 

Tommy shakes hands with Dream, then turns around so they can stand back to back. He faintly remembers to straighten his posture, after the many times Wilbur had lectured him about it. 

“You’re going to walk ten paces, then turn around and fire,” Wilbur says. Tommy takes a deep breath.

“One.”

Tommy steps forward, remembering when they won the first war, when L’manberg was independent for the first time. How Wilbur had rejoiced, ruffling Fundy’s hair. How Tubbo had hugged him, feet coming off the ground.

“Two.”

He remembers the election, the late nights writing down election documents and sending letters to endorsements by the candlelight. Every time Wilbur fell asleep at his desk and Tommy had thrown a blanket over his shoulders. 

“Three.”

He remembers the fear he felt when they were exiled, how they climbed down into a ravine and hung the lanterns, his hands still shaking after Schlatt’s followers had attacked them.

“Four.”

He remembers the festival, watching the fireworks explode into the sky in a multitude of colors. He’ll never forget the way Tubbo screamed when the blast collided with him.

“Five.”

He remembers fighting against Schlatt, how he fought to keep his hands level when he pointed a crossbow at the president, then watched him die to a stroke. 

“Six.” 

He remembers the initial shock of watching his country blow up, watching Wilbur bleed out on the blade of Phil’s sword. He remembers staring in muted horror as Technoblade spawned the withers, struggling to fight them off while navigating the crater that L’manberg had become.

“Seven.”

He remembered being exiled again, but alone this time. The tall black walls towering over his vision, hearing Tubbo approve the order and being escorted out of his country, the country he had fought for, the country he had died for. He remembers the long weeks spent by the coast, floating face up amongst the waves, building towers to look out over the horizon, staring down into the seas of lava in the nether and considering taking a step forward off the edge.

“Eight.”

He remembers hiking out to Technoblade’s house, shaking with the cold. He remembers the weeks he spent there, borrowing his golden apples and laughing with his brother. He remembers every ounce of fear he felt when Dream entered the house, constantly checking the time on his invisibility potions.

“Nine.”

He remembers watching L’manberg explode for the last time, smoke rising up from the charred remains, not clearing even hours after all the withers had been defeated. He remembers being struck by lightning, and somehow waking up in the past.

“Ten paces fire!”

Tommy turns around, his hands steady on the bow while he fires the arrow. 

He doesn’t miss. 

His hands lower to his sides while he watches Dream stare in shock at the arrow in his chest, blood starting to seep out and stain his green hoodie. While his hands reach up to dislodge the arrow, he loses his footing and plunges into the water underneath the bridge, his body disappearing a few minutes later. 

“Holy shit, you did it! We won, Tommy, we won! L’manberg is free!” Wilbur is at his side, holding his shoulders and grinning. He looks proud of him. 

Wilbur was never proud of him while he was alive. He was always saying how Tommy was too reckless, how he needed to learn how to listen, to think before he acted. 

How he was never going to be president. 

Tommy forces himself to smile. “Yeah, we’re free.” 

Everything still feels like a dream, like he’ll wake up tomorrow to find L’manberg still destroyed, his discs still out of his grasp. 

But if he’s really, truly in the past, there’s so much he needs to change. There’s so much he needs to prevent. 

L’manberg is free, but how long will it stay that way? As long as Dream is alive, they will never be truly free. Tommy learned that a long time ago. But even with L’manberg free, there’s still so much to prevent. 

He’s the only one who can stop the election from happening, who can stop Wilbur from going insane, who can stop Techno from spawning the withers. 

Techno had compared him to Theseus once. Tommy doesn’t feel like a hero anymore. He feels like Atlas, the weight of the world on his shoulders. He carries the weight of knowing the future with him. He’s watching his brother die, he’s watched his country explode, he’s watched someone he’d once considered his friend exile him. He’d watched how Dream had pulled the strings during all of this, keeping the entire server firmly under his control.

Tommy sighs. He has so much work to do. 


	3. Chapter 3

The afternoon sunlight creeps over the walls, casting a bright golden light over the lands of L’manberg. Tommy stands next to Wilbur on the roof of the Camarvan, the metal creaking under their feet. Tubbo stands to the right of him, exchanging easy smiles with him when Tommy glances over at him. 

Tommy tries to smile back. 

Fundy sits on the edge of the roof, one knee tucked to his chest and staring up at Wilbur. Eret stands next to Fundy, their expression hidden underneath their sunglasses. Tommy doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to seeing them without their crown, still wearing the L’manberg uniform. Every so often they glance at Tommy, expression almost worried. 

Wilbur doesn’t notice. Face screwed up in concentration, he writes frantically in a book, scratching out the words that don’t work and smudging the ink slightly with the sleeve of his uniform. 

Finally, Wilbur finishes writing his speech and clears his throat. “As we gaze upon the swaths of redwood trees, the great hills to our south and the walls that have protected us, I, as the now president of L'manberg, hereby declare,” Wilbur tucks the book under his arm and cups his hands to amplify his voice. “YOOOOOOOO SUCK IT GREEN BOI!”

The birds in a nearby tree startle, taking off into the air. 

Tommy laughs, remembering how much he’s missed this. Laughing with his friends, with his brother. 

Wilbur opens the book again, continuing his speech. “Our great nation stands for these ideals. Life, liberty, and the pursuit of freedom. Now, I want you all to sign this.” 

Wilbur hands the book to Tommy, and he takes it with shaking hands. This book, along with so many others, was destroyed when Techno and Dream blew up L’manberg. 

“My right hand man, Vice President Tommyinnit.”

Tommy almost drops the book. This didn’t happen last time. He was the Treasury of State last time. Wilbur only asked him to be his Vice President during the election. 

Smiling, Tommy signs his name in the book, his signature taking up twice the amount of room as Wilbur’s.

This is a good sign. Things are changing. 

“Tubbo?” Wilbur says, handing the book to him. 

“Yes?”

“I want you to be the Secretary of State”

“What does that mean?”

Tommy laughs, Tubbo glaring at him before signing the book. 

Wilbur looks directly over Fundy’s head, motioning for Eret to take the book. “Eret, I want you to be my Treasury of State.”

“I would be honored,” Eret says, their words sharp as they sign their name. 

Wilbur then kneels, eye to eye with Fundy now. “And Fundy. Who’s my little champion?” Wilbur says, his voice high pitched, almost mocking. He hands Fundy the book, which Fundy jerks out of his grasp. “Give it a little sign. My widdle liddle fox face”

Tommy watches as Fundy bristles at the affection, his shoulders tensing up when Wilbur cups his hand around his face and gently runs his thumbs over Fundy’s ears.

“My son. My son, we have independence,” Wilbur says, voice soft. Fundy looks away from him, quickly signing the book. 

Tubbo breaks the silence, letting out a large cheer and pumping his fist in the air. The force of the motion almost propels him off the side of the van, Tommy grabbing his arm before he can plummet. 

They all laugh, and Tommy joins in.

His chest hurts, and he’s unsure whether it’s his injuries from the explosion or from the memories of a time where Tubbo didn’t laugh with him, when Wilbur was dead. 

Wilbur climbs down the ladder into the teetering van. Tommy follows him, standing at his right side as he frames the declaration, the frame hanging on the wall of the van. 

“We’re going to rebuild. We’ll rebuild the van, fix the lake, fix everything. Rebuild the nation.” When he looks at him, Wilbur has that gleam in his eye, the same one he had when they started the revolution, when they started the election. He’s not going to back down, he’s going to chase whatever lies ahead with all his might. 

Tommy turns to Wilbur, holding out his arm. “I’ll be by your side, Wilbur. Whatever it takes. For L’manberg.”

Wilbur looks at Tommy curiously for a moment before grasping his hand. 

“For L’manberg.” 

Behind them, the van door opens, the metal scraping against the warped floor. 

Standing in the doorway, highlighted by the late afternoon sun, is a man in a green hoodie, glowing purple armor, and a white porcelain mask, the smile on it hiding his real expression. 

“Tommy, can I speak to you?” Dream asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger, next chapter should be out tomorrow : )


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Green boy talks to time-traveling child

Before Tommy can think of a response, Wilbur answers for him, arm wrapping in front of Tommy protectively. “Whatever you need to tell him you can tell me too.”

“I’d like to speak to Tommy alone.”

Every muscle in Tommy’s body goes on edge, and his fingers itch to move, to remove the straps of nonexistent armor. He doesn’t want to speak to Dream alone. He knows what Dream does when they’re alone, what he did during exile. 

He can’t let that happen again. 

“Well that’s not happening,” Wilbur says. “So I guess you’re not speaking to Tommy.”

Dream reaches behind him, unstrapping the netherite axe from his back and lowering it to his side. His motions are smooth and easy, like he’s done this a million times before and he has all the time in the world to get it done. The axe poised at his side isn’t a threat, not yet. 

It’s a show of power. 

L’manberg is nothing but a fledgling nation right now, their independence relies solely on whether or not Dream follows his deal. If he doesn’t, they’re defenseless against an army of netherite and explosives. 

Tommy knows this. There’s nothing he can do to stop Dream. Not now, at least. 

And he doesn’t want to watch his country implode again. 

Tommy brushes Wilbur’s arm aside, stepping in front of him. 

“I’ll talk to him,” Tommy says, trying to shoot Wilbur a reassuring glance. Wilbur just looks more concerned. Tommy turns to Dream. “But we have to be on L’manberg territory.”

Nothing in Dream’s body language gives away what he thinks. They wait with bated breath for his response. 

“That’s okay.” 

Tommy double checks that his discs are out of his inventory, and follows Dream out of the van. 

They end up standing on a hill beside the walls, a little way from the front gate. Tommy clenches his hands into fists over and over again. He feels so small next to Dream, so weak. 

He avoids looking at the man standing next to him, opting to focus on the overlapping lines in the blackstone in front of him instead. 

“Congrats on your independence,” Dream says, strapping his axe back on his back and folding his arms behind him. 

“Thank you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy can see him putting his weapon away. A sign of peace. For now. He knows that Dream will expect the loud, obnoxious version of Tommy, the one that would swear at him and laugh in victory. He knows what he’s saying will only make Dream more suspicious, but he can’t bring himself to act out. 

He can’t risk being at Dream’s mercy again. 

He’s never been good at this, at conversations. That was always Wilbur’s domain. He was the charismatic one, the one everyone always liked. Everyone always thought Tommy was annoying. 

The man next to him speaks. “Been practicing your aim?” Dream asks. 

Without thinking, Tommy laughs and turns to face Dream. 

The duel. That’s what he wants to ask about. 

Tommy remembers how Dream’s hands clutched at the fabric of his hoodie and how they came back red and how Tommy still has all three lives this time around. 

He thinks of his future, how he lost everything. How he has everything now. 

Dream is scared of him. The discs are in his enderchest, and there’s no chance that they’re leaving. 

For once in his life, Tommy has a chance to win. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling. “I’ve been practicing. Glad you noticed.”

“What are you going to do now?” The rest of the question is unspoken, but Tommy learned enough about Dream during his weeks in exile to respond to it. 

“That we have independence? I don’t think you need to know.”

It’s a challenge, that’s clear. Tommy beat him in a duel, and he has his discs. He’s winning. It’s up to Dream whether he wants to challenge him again.

There’s a click as Dream unstraps his axe, and Tommy tenses. 

He can’t let Dream kill him, not when he’s this far, not when he’s winning. 

“Who’s gonna rule the SMP?” He blurts out. The “now that Eret’s on our side” lies unspoken. 

The axe snaps back.

Tommy’s won this round. 

“I don’t think you need to know.”

Tommy smiles. “Is that it? Because I have to go help Wilbur repair the van you blew up.” He needs to get out of here, needs to get away from Dream before he does something Tommy doesn’t know how to counteract. 

“That’s all. For now.” Dream tucks his arms behind his back again, his tone low.

“Nice talking to you.” Tommy mockingly salutes him, the wide grin still on his face. “Now get the fuck out of our country.”

He stands on top of the hill, watching Dream leave the gate, and turns back to the van. Fundy and Tubbo are in front of it, collecting scraps of metal and depositing them in a chest at the base. Eret is nowhere to be seen. 

“Where’s Wilbur?” Tommy asks, skirting around the pieces of glass and broken metal laying the grass. 

“He’s in the van,” Tubbo says. 

“Thanks.”

Tommy ascends the half-broken steps, finding Wilbur sat on the floor underneath the frame with the declaration, poring over a set of papers. The metal floor creaks when Tommy steps in, and Wilbur looks up. When he sees Tommy, he rises, kicking a pen that rolls all the way along the floor and out of the van. 

“Tommy! What did Dream have to tell you?”

“Nothing important.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure,” he snaps. “What do we do now?”

“What, what do you mean?”

“We’re independent, not perfect. We still have to run a country, make repairs. What do you need me to do?”

“Oh, Tommy, you don’t have to worry about that,” Wilbur says, placing his hands on Tommy’s shoulders. Tommy can see the dark circles forming around his eyes. His Wilbur put so much into L’manberg, only to get exiled. Tommy can’t let him go through this alone. “You just won the war for us. You dueled Dream, and won! You can go relax, Tommy. You’re a hero.”

Hero. 

Techno’s words on the 16th echo back to him. He can feel the ground shaking under his feet, the wind blowing against his ash-stained face. Techno stood across the chasm from him, finger curled around a wither skull while he shouted at him. 

Good things don’t happen to heroes. 

Tommy doesn’t feel much like a hero. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I speedran this chapter to get it out before the confrontation today, enjoy!

Tommy steps down from the Camarvan, wincing against the harsh sunlight and bringing his hand up to shield his eyes. The day is almost over, the tip of the sun peeking out from behind the walls. He can barely comprehend how much has happened in a day. It feels like ages ago he was staring out over the destruction of L’manberg, and now he’s in the past. He won a duel, he spoke to Dream, he secured their independence. 

So much has happened, and there’s still so much he needs to do. 

Tommy sighs. He needs a place to think, he needs to get out from behind these walls and the still-standing nation that still feels a little like a hallucination even hours after he arrived here. 

Tucking his hands into the battered pockets of his revolutionary coat, he makes his way out of the gate and along the Prime Path. The wooden panels are familiar under his feet, and Tommy finally feels himself relax as he climbs up the stairs towards his house. All day he’s been having to look over his shoulder, think on his feet to survive, it feels strange to let his body relax, to not be poised for battle. 

The familiar territory of his house is highlighted by the low, golden light. Across from his house, is the bench. A revolutionary coat is slung across the back of it, the person the coat belongs to sitting in front of it. 

Tubbo. 

Silently, Tommy walks over to his house, cringing at the creek of his door and the low hum of his ender chest. Propped up against one side of his ender chest is the discs. He pulls out one of them, his breath catching as he holds it in his hand. It’s been so long since he’s held one of his discs. The vinyl is cool against his fingertips, and the sloppy writing of the word, “Mellohi” has faded with time. Tommy remembers Tubbo making fun of him for his handwriting when he first got the discs, those long days of laughter and music. 

He shakes his head, snapping out of his memories, and exits his house, the door swinging behind him. He walks up to the jukebox, gently inserting the disc and setting it up to play. The music pours out of the jukebox, filling the air around them. 

Tubbo looks up at the sound, smiling at him. Tommy slides into the spot next to him on the bench, and they listen to the jukebox, the only sound the soft notes of Mellohi. 

Tommy feels more at peace here, now, than he has in months. 

“I still can’t believe we won,” Tubbo says, turning to look at Tommy. 

“Me either.” He’s tired. Tired of war, tired of fighting, yet he can’t find a way to relax with his best friend without feeling like something is wrong. Every muscle in his body aches, and his hands feel empty without a weapon. He pulls his coat closer around himself. 

“You went up against Dream! And won! It was badass.” Tubbo’s all smiles, hands gesturing wildly and almost propelling himself off the bench. 

Tommy laughs. “I guess I did.” He turns towards Tubbo. “What do we do now?”

“What do you mean?”

"L'Manberg is independent now. We have nothing else to fight for.”

“Well, I suppose we do what we’ve always done.”

Tommy can’t remember what they’ve always done, can’t remember a time when his interactions with Tubbo weren’t stained with betrayal and pain. 

“Tomorrow we could always scam someone, or build something, or go on an adventure! The future’s bright, Tommy. We’ve won.”

Before he can stop himself, Tommy blurts out, “And we’ll still be friends? In the future?”

Tubbo looks at him like he’s grown a third head. “Of course we’ll be friends. You’ve gotta try harder than that to get rid of me.” Tubbo playfully punches his arm, and Tommy laughs, rubbing his arm. 

He leans back against the bench, relaxing next to his best friend, watching the pinks and oranges of the sunset dance across the sky. Mellohi plays softly next to them, and for the first time that day Tommy allows himself to think that maybe he’ll be able to have peace this time around. 

He doesn’t know that he’s wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot stuff officially begins next chapter : )


	6. Chapter 6

They all sleep in the van that night, cloth secured over the parts that still need to be repaired to keep the cold out. No one wants to go back to their houses, wanting to stay close to each other inside the walls of their new country. They’ve only had independence for a few hours now, and nobody can shake the sense of uneasiness that comes from fighting a war. 

Tommy is restless. He keeps his sword next to him, and tosses and turns, never being able to fall asleep. Every time he closes his eyes all he can see is the bright fire of explosions and a simple smiley face burned into his vision. 

When he finally falls asleep, he’s haunted by nightmares. 

He can taste the gunpowder on his tongue, feel the strain in his arms when he pulls himself out of a crater. His nose is bleeding, the blood staining his skin. He wipes it away with the back of his hand, right before he takes another blow to the face, stumbling backwards until he collides with the wall of the pit. His hands shake as he draws back the string of the bow in his hands, and misses. The blood stains his fingertips and fades out into the water around him before he dies, losing one more of his lives. Everything is burning, including him. He’s never known anything else but death and destruction. Tommy screams out in pain, and he isn’t sure if he’s drowning or burning. No one can hear his voice like he’s yelling from underwater. He can feel obsidian walls closing in around him, painting his vision with black.

With a start, Tommy wakes up, fingers desperately clawing at the blankets now abandoned at his side. His breathing slows as he looks around, the light from the moon shining through the broken windows of the van and illuminating his surroundings. Fundy, Wilbur, and Tubbo are still sound asleep on the floor. Eret is nowhere to be seen. 

The metal of the floor is cool under his hands, and Tommy tries to calm his racing heart. This isn’t the first time he’s had nightmares. He should be able to deal with this by now. He dealt with it all on his own in exile, didn’t he? He’s going to have to deal with things on his own now. 

There’s so much pain in the future, in his future, and he’s the only one that knows. 

Is this the curse of a hero? To carry the burden of the future on his shoulders, alone?

Tommy stands up, shifting his weight carefully so as to not creak the metal as he climbs out of the van. On his way, he picks up his sword, which had previously laid by his side while he slept. Immediately, the weight of the sword in his hand calms him. The sword is nothing special, nothing like the weapon he wielded in the future, but the simple diamond blade provides him a sense of comfort. He has a way to defend himself now. 

At night, the blackstone walls can easily be mistaken for obsidian, and Tommy can feel them closing in on him, trapping him inside with nowhere to escape to. He leaves L’manberg as soon as he can. 

He roams the Prime Path like a ghost, easily dismembering any mobs that come near him. After pulling his sword clean from the dead body of a spider, Tommy looks up and is met with the view of two unfinished stone brick towers. Chests sit at the base of them, and Tommy faintly recognizes the towers as the front of Eret’s castle. 

It must still be under construction then, this far in the past. Tommy doesn’t know what Eret is going to do now that they’re the Treasury of State of L’manberg and not the King anymore. Are they still planning to betray them? Are they still working with Dream? 

Tommy tightens his grip on his sword, more alert now that he knows he’s in enemy territory. 

“Tommy?” a voice behind him asks. 

Quickly, he turns around, sword rising until it rests a few inches away from Eret’s throat. 

Eret’s eyes are hidden behind their sunglasses, and Tommy briefly wonders why they’re even wearing sunglasses at night, but he’s still able to read the emotions on the rest of their face. They look scared, almost shocked. 

“What are you doing here?” Eret says, their hands drifting down to their waist to rest on top of the handle of their sword. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Tommy lowers his sword but still keeps it poised at his side, ready to strike. “What are you doing?”

“I also couldn’t sleep.”

“Really?” Tommy doesn’t believe them, not after they’d already planned to betray L’manberg. And they would've, would have led them to the final control room had Tommy not intervened. 

“Yeah.” There’s a beat of silence where the two stand at each other. Tommy has so much he wants to ask, but he can’t risk drawing attention to himself. Eret must remember how he accused him of being a traitor earlier, down in the tunnels. But they haven’t said anything about it yet. 

They can’t be trusted. 

“Do you want to spar?” Eret asks, gesturing to the sword at Tommy’s side. 

Tommy’s hesitant. He doesn’t know what Eret is thinking. He always tried to avoid them after the first war for independence, never tried to forgive them, even though so many others had. He’s still wary around them, especially now. 

Well, there’s only one way to find out what they’re thinking. 

“Sure.” 

The two make their way past the towers and up the hill. Tommy discards his coat, letting it rest in the grass beside him. Eret does the same, and unsheathes their sword from their belt. Tommy readjusts his grip on his own sword, familiarizing himself with the balance of the blade until it feels like an extension of his arm. 

He remembers the late nights he spent in the basement of Techno’s house, his sword constantly being forced out of his hands and clattering against the floor. How he would pick it back up, take a deep breath, and start to fight again. He remembers Techno lecturing him about proper form and how to look for your opponent’s weaknesses, hitting his side with the flat edge of his sword every time Tommy slipped. He had bruises for weeks, but it didn’t matter, because one day, after four hours of sparring, he was able to disarm Techno for the first time.

It was then, under Techno’s guidance, that he learned how to fight properly. Nothing like the wild, crazed fighting he did during the first few wars, in which all he was doing was trying to survive. 

Now he knew how to thrive on a battlefield, how to swing a sword with deadly precision. 

Eret stands a few paces across from him, sword raised in front of them in a defensive position. Tommy raises his in return. 

“You ready?”

“Of course I am, bitch.” 

With that, Tommy lunges forward, his blade traveling in a wide, sweeping arc towards Eret. They dodge the attack, stepping to the side. The momentum from his attack carries him forwards, one of his knees digging into the dirt. He steadies himself by planting his hand in the grass and in less than a moment he is back on his feet, using his forward momentum to strike upwards. 

Eret counters his attack, bracing their sword with their non-dominant hand. The two blades scrape together as they clash. Eret slides backward and Tommy rushes towards them. The two trade blows like that for a few paces, diamond clashing with diamond. 

Tommy begins to feel the familiar strain in his arms, and he remembers how much he missed this. 

And how good he was at it. 

That is until Eret stumbles from the continued attacks, their next strike aiming lower than the others. Every nerve in Tommy’s body is on edge, and he manages to move out of the way just before the sword swipes across his abdomen. 

The blade cuts across his arm instead, drawing a streak of blood with it. Tommy’s stomach turns at the sight of it, but he readjusts his sword so the blood dripping down his forearm doesn’t affect his grip. 

“Shit, are you okay?” Eret asks, lowering their sword to their side. “We can stop if you want.”

“I’m fine.” Tommy brings his sword up again and moves forward, forcing Eret to raise their sword in defense.

He’s not stopping until the man who betrayed them is on the fucking ground. 

Tommy charges towards them, the two blades connecting with a loud shriek. He uses all his weight to push forwards, then sidesteps to the right. Eret loses their balance, and Tommy uses the chance to cut across their arm, drawing blood. 

There. Now they’re even. 

Eret stumbles, and Tommy lands a well-aimed kick to the back of their knees. They hit the ground hard, gasping as the wind is knocked out of them. Eret’s sunglasses are slightly askew as they stare up at the sky, breathing heavily.

Tommy finally lowers his sword, and then, against his better judgment, offers a hand to Eret. They take it, and Tommy pulls them back up to their feet. 

“You want to go again?” Tommy asks, pressing a palm against his arm to stop the blood flowing out of the wound. 

“No way. Where’d you even learn to fight like that?”

“My brother.” 

“Wilbur?” Eret sounds shocked. Tommy doesn’t blame him. Wilbur was never the fighter in their family. That was always Techno. But he doesn’t correct him. The less Eret knows about the future, the better. 

“You know,” Tommy starts as he picked up his jacket from the ground and gestures at the hill around them, “This would be a good place for a castle.”

Eret freezes, the bandages they’ve been preparing for their arm slipping out of their hands and hitting the dirt. “How did you-”

Tommy ignores them. “Think about it. I’ll see you tomorrow. You’re the Treasury of State now, remember?”

Eret doesn’t respond, and Tommy leaves them there on the hill. 

He’ll deal with the traitor later. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So . . . I heard you guys like SBI angst?

Tommy spends the morning mining for better armor, his previous set having been destroyed beyond repair from the blast. The mines are tiresome and his arms ache, but he doesn’t stop until his pickaxe breaks.

He remembers the long days in exile, spending days getting enough armor that he finally felt secure, only for Dream to come and blow it up again. 

His hands fumble with the straps of his chest plate, taking multiple attempts to get it securely fastened. Tommy hates the feel of armor, hates how it restricts his movements, and presses down on his body. But it’s the only thing that can protect him against the violence everyone else wants to inflict on him. 

He can never get a break, can he? 

Tommy bends his arm, making sure the armor doesn’t restrict his movement. If he was being attacked, and couldn’t get to his sword in time, he would die. Again. 

In his first death, during the shock and confusion of his enemies jumping out around them, the obsidian closing in around them, Tommy’s hands had fumbled, his sword falling out of his grasp. Dream had stepped over it, sinking his axe between Tommy’s ribs. He wasn’t able to defend himself as he stumbled back, hitting the wall behind him and trying to stop the blood seeping down his shirt. It hurt like hell, laying against the cool obsidian while he bled out. 

He wasn’t able to protect himself then, but he will now. 

Tommy rises, pressing a hand against the cave wall for balance. He knows the unenchanted diamond armor will do nothing against netherite weapons, but it’s a start. 

Besides, hadn’t Technoblade managed to beat a man in full netherite with only iron armor and a pickaxe?

A bitter laugh rises out of Tommy. He isn’t Technoblade, no matter how much he looked up to him as a child. And he will never be like him, no matter how long he trains. 

With that, Tommy exits the cave, heading back towards L’manberg. 

Wilbur is in the Camarvan when he arrives, and doesn’t even look up when Tommy dumps his leftover resources into a chest. 

“Wilbur?” he asks. Wilbur jolts up, hand coming up to rub at his eyes. 

“Oh, Tommy, I didn’t know you were there. Where have you been?” Wilbur looks like shit, and that’s generous. His eyes are bloodshot and red like he had just been crying. Gaunt lines trace across his face and his hair is even more messy than usual. He’s still in his uniform, the sleeves of his jacket all wrinkled. 

Tommy wonders if he got any sleep the night before. 

“Mining,” Tommy says. Wilbur’s trying to change the subject, Tommy knows from experience. He always did this, even when they were younger. Tommy doesn’t think he’s ever seen Wilbur cry, not when Phil left them as kids, not even in Pogtopia. He doesn’t know how to handle this. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, immediately cringing. 

“Of course I am, why do you ask?”

“Wilbur, you look like shit.”

“Hey! Don’t be rude.”

So Wilbur’s not going to tell him. That’s okay. Tommy looks down, noticing Wilbur’s communicator in front of him on his desk. His stomach sinks, and in a split second, Tommy realizes what must be wrong. He grabs the communicator before thinking, nimble fingers opening up Wilbur’s past messages.

“Tommy! Give that back!”

Tommy ducks out of the way of Wilbur’s reaching arm, reading the messages as he goes.

_ <WilburSoot> Hello, I was wondering if you and Techno would like to come visit anytime soon. Tommy and I started a country in the Dream SMP. I’m the president. Thought you might like to see. _

_ <Philza> Sorry, Techno and I are pretty busy with the empire. Maybe some other time. _

_ <WilburSoot> That’s okay _

It wasn’t fucking okay. Phil was supposed to be their father, and he was never there for them. Tommy was practically raised by Wilbur after Phil went to start an empire and only trusted his oldest to stand by his side. Most of the Dream SMP didn’t even know the four of them were related. 

Phil barely even managed to show up when Wilbur was going to blow up a country. And even then, all he did was kill him. He killed Wilbur, killed his brother. 

Tommy lets Wilbur grab the communicator back from him, taking his own out and typing out a message so aggressively his fingers might break the keys. 

_ <Tommyinnit> Phil I swear to fucking god if you don’t get your ass over here to visit I’m going over to SMP Earth and dragging you here myself _

_ <Philza> Tommy? _

_ <Tommyinnit> You heard me _

_ <Philza> Tommy, I can’t just pack up and leave. I’m very busy.  _

_ <Tommyinnit> I don’t fucking care. You can make time for your kids for one week, or I swear to Prime I will start stabbing shit _

_ <Philza> I can’t just leave. The empire needs me. _

_ <Tommyinnit> We need you _

_ <Philza> I’m sorry. Maybe another time? _

Tommy’s hands clench around the communicator, fingers digging into the metal. Of course he wasn’t going to visit. When had Phil ever cared about them? They didn’t need him. Wilbur and him had been doing fine so far, they had raised themselves, they didn't need their father, no matter how much Tommy missed him. 

He glances up. Wilbur’s standing behind his desk again, looking out the window and clearly trying to hide his emotions from Tommy. 

Wilbur needs support. He needs something Tommy can’t give him, he needs guidance. And that can’t come from his little brother. Try as he might, Wilbur had never run a country before, and Tommy didn’t want to watch him crack under the pressure again. 

He’s haunted by caverns filled with buttons and the smell of gunpowder, of looking into his brother’s eyes and meeting nothing but insanity. 

He can’t let that happen to his brother again. Phil can help. Phil has to help.

Tommy will make him help.

_ <Tommyinnit> Wilbur needs you. Now more than ever. I couldn’t give a damn if I never saw your ugly face again, but you need to come help Wilbur. You have one week to come to the Dream SMP before I’m coming to the empire to bring you here myself. So you might want to reconsider.  _

Tommy tucks his communicator back into his pocket and strides over to Wilbur. 

“We don’t need them, you know? Techno and Phil. We’re fine without them,” Tommy says, awkwardly placing a hand on Wilbur’s back. Wilbur sighs, hand reflexively coming up to run through his hair. 

“I know.”

“Still hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Tommy?” Wilbur turns to him, pain in his face. Tommy falters, his hand shaking. He doesn’t want to see his brother hurt. Not now. Not ever. But he continues on.

“I barely know Phil. My own father. What kind of person doesn’t have the time to visit his own kids, who started an empire with his oldest and left us to fend for ourselves, all because he didn’t trust us?” his words are bitter, cutting out of his mouth. He’s never said any of this out loud before. “What kind of father does that?” 

“Ours.” 

They stand in silence, staring out over the countryside of L’manberg. The rolling hills and trees that they call their own, stalks of grass still growing despite the ashes littered among them. 

“We don’t need them. Never did,” Wilbur says. Tommy watches as his shoulders rise, his jaw tightening. Any trace of the emotion that pained Wilbur is wiped from his face, his sense of bravado returning with vengeance. “Don’t worry Toms, we can do this on our own. We can run a country.”

Wilbur’s trying to convince himself more than he is Tommy.

The worst part is, Tommy knows that he’s wrong. 


	8. Chapter 8

It takes Tommy multiple tries to secure his new armor over his L’manberg uniform. The sleeves keep getting all bunched up under the straps, and by the time he finally gets the coat to lay flat on his shoulders, he’s late to the cabinet meeting. 

His boots click against the metal floor of the van as he enters, the people clustered around the meeting table looking up as Tommy closes the door behind him. Eret and Tubbo stand on either side of Wilbur, papers strewn across the wood paneling of the table. It’s all the original founders of L’manberg. Except-

“Where’s Fundy?” 

“Why are you wearing armor?” Tubbo asks. 

“Yeah, Tommy, why are you wearing armor?” Wilbur echoes, moving towards him. His hand reaches for him and suddenly he’s too close, too close to Tommy. His heart races as everything closes in around him. Wilbur’s concerned expression morphs into a blank white mask, gloved hands reaching for his armor, hands that have only brought pain and violence into Tommy’s life. 

Dream asked the same thing when he found out Tommy had been gathering his own materials, right before he forced Tommy to blow it all up. Tommy can still taste the ash and the smoke that hung like a fog over Logstedshire, the cold waves of the ocean the only thing that could wipe the stain of gunpowder from his skin. The only thing that could soothe his bruises, could stop Dream from-

Wilbur’s hand reaches out for him, and Tommy flinches so violently he collides with the wall, his head hitting the metal with a sick crunch. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo yells, lunging towards his friend. Eret holds him back. 

Tommy can’t breathe can’t move, but he has to get away, has to leave now. Every nerve in his body screams  **danger** and the walls are closing in around him, trapping him. The back of his head pounds, and he can barely see. But he has to move, has to get away, before he gets hurt again. His fists collide with something solid, and something hits the table with a thud. 

“Wilbur!” Tubbo yells, the sound of feet scuffling against the floor echoing through the van. 

“I’m fine Tubbo, I’m fine.”

The voices sound like they’re underwater, drowned out by explosions, by fireworks, death,  **destruction** -

A hand is cradling the back of his head, and Tommy flinches again. 

“Can you breathe with me, Tommy?” a voice asks, barely above a whisper. Tommy tries to focus on his breathing, chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Wilbur fades into vision in front of him, eyes full of worry and hand gently cradled around Tommy’s head. 

Tommy sinks into his older brother’s arms, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down his face. He doesn’t even care about the fact that he’s crying in front of his friends, not when his brother is there, his embrace steady and warm and alive. 

“Shh, Tommy, it’s okay. You’re okay,” Wilbur whispers into Tommy’s hair, hand carding through his curls.

Neither of them knows whether it’s been minutes or hours when they separate. 

Tommy slowly stands up, arm coming up to wipe the tears off his face. He slowly becomes aware of the rest of the room. The table that’s been slid back, papers scattered on the floor. Eret’s arms wrapped tightly around Tubbo, who’s since gone slack in their hold. Wilbur, ever patient, standing in front of him with a soft expression and a bloodied nose. 

There’s blood on Tommy’s hands and the back of his head.

He was naive to think that this peace would ever last, that Tommyinnit would ever be able to have peace. 

“Tommy, are you okay?” Eret asks, finally letting Tubbo go. He immediately runs over to Tommy, capturing his best friend in a tight hug. Hesitantly, Tommy brings his arms up to wrap around his friend. 

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” Tubbo asks, pulling back. “I was so worried. What happened?”

How does Tommy even begin to explain to them what has happened to him, what has made him flinch at the mere mention of removing his armor? 

“Nothing.”

“That didn’t seem like nothing to me,” Wilbur says, and Tommy can't stand the pity in his eyes. 

“Well, it was.” 

“Who did this to you?” Eret’s voice cuts through the room, and Tommy internally curses them for being so observant, for knowing exactly what has happened. 

“You really want to know?” He crosses his arms as he looks at Eret and they nod. Wilbur and Tubbo exchange confused looks, unsure of where the conversation is going. “It was Dream, for your information.”

Eret tenses, a myriad of emotions flickering across their face. 

“Tommy,” Tubbo starts, cautiously. “What exactly did Dream do to you?” Tommy turns back to face them. Tubbo looks pained, and Wilbur’s hands are tightening around the edges of the meeting table he’s leaning against. 

Fuck, he hurt them. He should have just kept his mouth shut. 

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m gonna kill that green bastard,” Wilbur says, the table sliding back even more when he steps away from it. He looks fucking furious, and Tommy can’t help but think of days spent in a ravine littered with buttons, worried about when his brother’s anger was going to turn to him. 

“You can’t.”

“Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

“He controls the SMP, he controls everyone. He’s basically king.” Tommy notices how Eret flinches at the mention of his promised title. “We’re lucky he’s even allowing our country to exist.”

“I guess you’re right,” Wilbur sighs, hands running through his hair. In that moment, Wilbur looks nothing like the general who fought for L’manberg’s independence. He looks exhausted. 

Tommy hopes that Techno and Phil will get here soon and that he won’t be forced to bring them to the SMP himself. 

“Meeting adjourned. We can do this another day,” Wilbur says. 

Eret and Tommy linger, sitting on the steps of the Camarvan. The two of them look out over the hills of L’manberg, at the construction that has started, half-finished buildings and scaffolding reaching up to the sky. 

“How did you know?” Eret asks. 

“Know about what?”

“About,” they hesitate. 

Tommy wants them to say it. Wants them to admit that they were planning to betray them, that they would have done it if Tommy hadn’t stopped them. Wants to see the guilt in their eyes when they tell Tommy exactly what they both know. 

“About my deal with Dream,” Eret says, resigned. 

“What about your deal with Dream?” Tommy asks, voice tinged with an underlying threat. His sword rests at his side, tip digging into the grass and fingers curling around the handle. Eret stumbles back, moving off the steps to stand in the grass, boots sinking into the mud. “Do you want me to tell you how I knew you were planning to betray us? How you would have killed us all had I not stopped you? How you wouldn’t have cared that you forced us to watch our friends and our family die as we bled out?”

“Tommy!” Eret yells, snapping Tommy out of his trance. His sword is pressed up against Eret’s throat, drawing a streak of blood that drips down their collar.

He lowers it. 

“There’s no possible way you could’ve known about that.”

“Are you sure about that, King Eret?” Tommy asks mockingly. 

“Yeah.” 

“Fine.” If Eret doesn’t want to believe him, then he’ll make them believe him. “Let me show you.” 

Tommy doesn’t sheath his sword as he leads Eret down a familiar path. The last time he came here he was wounded, along with the rest of his friends. Eret had promised them a secret weapon, but all they received was a sword to the chest. 

He never forgave them for it. He never thought he’d be back here, standing at the top of a set of stairs leading down into darkness.

This is it. 

The final control room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a lighthearted cabinet meeting I don't know what happened


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consistent upload time? Don't know her  
> Enjoy the angst boys

He never thought he’d be here again. 

The blackstone walls feel almost suffocating, but Tommy forces himself forward, into the depths of the room. He can’t show weakness, not now, and definitely not in front of Eret. He stands behind the button, keeping a wide berth and watching as Eret takes hesitant steps into the room. 

If things had gone differently, this is the room he would have lost his first life in. 

“This is the final control room. But I’m sure you already knew that,” Tommy says. 

“I did. That still doesn’t explain how you know about it though.”

“I overheard you and Dream meeting about it.” He’s lying. He has no idea if that ever happened. 

“Dream and I never met in person until after the war, it would have been too suspicious.”

Tommy’s heart drops. 

“Wait, after the war? You’re still working with him!?” Tommy yells, taking a cautious step backward. 

“You know something, Tommy! What is it?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because Dream asked me to!”

Tommy doesn’t realize he’s moved backwards even more until he collides with the wall, trying to put as much distance between him and Eret as possible. 

They’re still working with Dream. They betrayed them again. 

Once a traitor always a traitor. 

And he’s trapped again, with Eret blocking the doorway. The walls are starting to close in on him, keeping him locked inside.

All he can see is towering black obsidian walls, painting his vision with black. 

He can never escape this fucking room, no matter how much he wants to. 

“What exactly did Dream ask you to do?” Tommy’s voice is low, threatening, as he unsheathes his sword. He tries to ignore the way his fingers shake, focusing only on getting out of this room alive. 

If Eret is working with Dream, then Eret is a threat. 

“He asked me to keep an eye on you! He says you’re being suspicious. Tommy, what’s going on?”

Tommy can barely hear them, their words echoing across the room as if they’re traveling through water. 

Dream knows Dream knows  **Dream knows.**

“You can’t keep hiding things from us! Whatever this is. I want answers!”

“You want answers? Then tell me one thing, Eret. How do I know you’re not going to betray us again?” Tommy screams, words reverberating off the walls of the room.

“I-” Eret starts, then hesitates, as if they don’t know how to answer. 

Tommy sidesteps around the button, sword raised at Eret’s throat. “Step away from the doorway.” 

“I can’t do that. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Eret swings their arms out, blocking the entrance. Tommy’s breath catches. 

“Move. Away. From. The. Doorway.”

“I never wanted to betray you all!” Tommy lowers his sword and Eret’s hands fly to their neck, taking deep breaths.

“Really? Then why are we standing in this room right now? Because it looks to me like you were planning to betray us all along. And I don’t have the time to speak with a traitor.”

Tommy tries to push against them to get out of the room, but Eret stands firm against his struggle. Their hands clasp around Tommy’s shoulders, trying to get him to calm down. “Tommy! Tommy, look at me!” They yell, hands quickly rising up to remove their sunglasses, revealing glowing white eyes. The first time Tommy had seen them he had run away, but now he’s able to get a closer look. Eret’s eyes are completely gone, sockets caving in slightly before they’re filled with a glowing light that pulses as Tommy stares at them.

“I’m something else, Tommy. And I've always felt like I’m destined to have some sort of power over the world, even if I haven’t realized it yet. That’s why I made that deal with Dream. But I don't want that power if I have to hurt my friends to get it.”

Tommy laughs. “You already have.” 

“What-what are you talking about?”

“If I tell you this Eret, how do I know you’re not going to go and report it all to Dream?”

“This morning scared me. I wanted to help you then, but I didn’t know how. Let me help you now. Whatever Dream did to you, I won’t let it happen again.” 

“Okay. But if you say a word of this to anyone else, I will kill you. Understand?”

Eret nods. 

“I’m from the future. A far time into the future.” 

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’m dead serious. How else do you think I won that duel against Dream?” 

Eret’s eyes widen and they let go of Tommy’s shoulders in surprise. “So, this morning, when you said Dream did this to you, that was because of the future.”

Tommy nods, arms coming in to circle around himself. 

“Jesus, Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity,” he snaps. “Especially not from a traitor.”

Eret pauses. “Tommy, what exactly did Dream do to you?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” 

“You don’t have to tell me. I don’t mind.”

He looks up. “Really?”

“Yep. If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I don’t want you handling this all alone.”

“You said Dream is suspicious of me?”

“He is. He’s spent days trying to figure out how you won that duel.” 

“Can you keep him off my trail? Keep him from figuring out the future stuff?”

“Of course,” Eret says, voice soft. “I’m on your side, Tommy.”

“Thank you.” Tommy’s voice is almost a whisper, so quiet Eret nearly doesn’t hear it. 

“It’s not a problem.”

Tommy brushes past him, walking back up the stairs to the surface, leaving Eret alone to look around a room that would have seen the bloodshed of their friends had things turned out differently. 

Eret cradles their head in their hands and cries. 


End file.
